So Far, So Good
by Sare Liz
Summary: Life continues on for Tony and Pepper. They're just taking it one step at a time. Movieverse. TS/PP. #3 in the 'Slice of Life' series.
1. Two Months Salary

**Title: **So Far, So Good  
**Author:** Sare Liz  
**Disclaimer: **Not Mine.  
**Rating:** Still T. Ish.  
**Continuity:** Iron Man, Movieverse, TS/PP, After "I'm Working On It" and "Work In Progress"  
**Author's Note:** some references: The book mentioned is by Walter Brueggemann, and is wonderful. It's true about the god-awful fuchsia shirts, and if someone knows more about diamonds than me, please review and give me the low down. I did my research, but I'm no expert.

--

After lunch with her sister, they had made a hastily planned stop at his favorite jewelers, and to their credit, the owner who came out to help Mr. Stark personally did not so much as flinch when Tony pointed out what they were specifically looking for. They decided on a platinum band, a simple setting, and had her finger measured, and his for the record as well, but that was the easy part.

"Tony, that's huge. I can't possibly wear that on my finger."

"You don't like it?"

"I like it just fine, but it's too big."

"What about the cut? Marquise, Pear, or Round Brilliant, a traditional diamond for a traditional girl?"

She grinned and snuggled closer to his side. "You know me, traditional."

"And you know me, untraditional."

"Which is why the metal will be platinum. Non-traditional."

"Could go with a gold titanium alloy."

"Well save that for the wedding bands, I think."

"Yea?"

"Why not?"

"With a little hot rod red in there?"

Pepper gave him an assessing sideways glance. "We'll see."

"What about this one?"

"That's not too bad. You don't think it's a bit on the big side?"

"Nope."

"Well, no, of course _you_ wouldn't."

"What about this one?"

"Tony, that one's even bigger."

"I know. And I like it even better."

"What about this one?"

"Pep, that's _tiny_."

"It's _intimate._"

"I'm not buying you an intimate diamond, my darling one. I'm buying you a _rock._ You'll be able to signal satellites with its brilliance. Or me, for that matter."

Her eyes narrowed. "And everyone who sees it will have no doubt to whom I belong, is that it?"

"Exactly."

"Absolutely not."

He sighed. "Look. Two month's salary, right? I mean, that's the industry standard. Which is moot in my case. The sky's the limit, we'll get whatever you want. But I draw the line at purchasing a diamond you can barely see. I won't do it."

She sighed and pointed at a 6 carat diamond cut in the Round Brilliance style.

"Go look at earrings and we'll be ready to go in just a minute."

She'd rolled her eyes at him. Tony could only imagine what was going through her head, and actually he had a pretty good idea, but he still wanted to make these arrangements out of earshot of her. He arranged payment, and asked if it could, possibly be ready in five hours. They said they'd have it for him in four.

It wasn't long after that he walked her to the door of her apartment. She'd introduced him to the concierge and gave permission for him to enter and proceed upstairs without her tacit approval each visit. They took the elevator up to the ninth floor and the entire, slow ride he stood behind her and off to the left just slightly, his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder, his eyes gazing into her reflection in the mirrored side panels.

When the door opened, he followed her out, hand in hand. She dug into her purse and took out her keys, but when she slowed in front of number 903, he tugged her close and brushed his lips against hers.

"Invite me in?"

"No."

He pouted, but she just kissed him again. Her tongue swept out and he quickly parted his lips and let her slip inside. Their tongues slid across and around each other and Tony lost himself to the sensation of the kiss, the awareness of her lips against his, her body pressed between himself and the door. There was an amazing feeling that started somewhere around the arc reactor that just spread out, down his torso, through his arms. Not that he was thinking about it at the time, but if he did, he might have called it bliss.

He broke the kiss and steadied his breathing against the smooth column of her neck. "Invite me in," he said, and this time it wasn't a question.

"_No."_

He sighed and leaned back so he could meet her eye. "Have dinner with me tonight?"

"Well, my refrigerator is looking kind of bare. I might as well."

God, he loved it when she was playful. It looked so good on her. He had a hard time suppressing his own smile, and he knew it reached his eyes. "I'll pick you up at eight, then."

--

He took the book out from inside the slim drawer in his bedside table. It was the only thing in there.

He'd meant to go straight down into his workshop. He was working the redesign of the jet boots, and if his math was correct, the prospective changes would necessitate a redesign of the exoskeleton. He had several good ideas, and he only meant to come into this bedroom and change shirts, but he sat down on his bed and pulled out the book instead.

"Prayers for a Privileged People" – Desmond had given it to him. He'd flipped through it a few times. There was some good stuff in there, not that Tony considered himself the praying kind, but he could admit that he was, at least, privileged. Most important for his purposes right now, there was a phone number, complete with a string of country and area codes.

"Jarvis, what time is it in Cape Town?"

"They are nine hours ahead of us, sir. It is midnight there."

"Right. Bad time to call. Program the following number into my phone," he said, rattling off the many digits.

"And what name should I put to this number, sir?"

"Desmond. And search the Internet for a picture of him smiling. See if you can find one of him an a god-awful fuchsia shirt, will you?"

"Do I take it to mean you would like a picture of Desmond Tutu, former archbishop of Cape Town?"

"You're smart. I wonder who programmed you."

"I believe you will find, sir, that the 'god-awful fuchsia' is one of the standard colors of the traditional Anglican bishop's purple shirt."

"Oh? I suppose we have one of those?"

"In America? Yes, sir."

"And he wears that same color?"

"I believe _she_ does, sir."

"Smarty pants."

Jarvis was silent as Tony put the book back into the drawer and changed shirts. He'd already arranged to have Hogan pick up the ring before the shop closed, which meant that he had four hours before he had to shower and get ready.

There were a pair of jet boots with his name on them.

--

to be continued...


	2. Whore of Babylon

**Author's Note:** What you need to know is that Mom has a thick Massachusetts accent. If you cannot at all imagine this, imagine a thick NYC accent. They're not all that similar, except that they can both be pretty dramatic and outrageous. It's the drama and the outrage that I'll want to you really get...

--

The phone ran three times before her mother picked up on the other end in western Massachusetts.

"Hi, Mom."

"Ginny? Is that you?"

"Yep. I just thought I'd call to say –"

"What's wrong? Is your sister okay? Are the boys alright? Did you lose your job, sweetheart?"

"No, Mom. It's nothing like that. I'm just calling to tell you that –"

"You're boss hasn't been kidnapped again, has he? I'm not sure I can go through that twice. It must be so stressful for you, sweetheart. I know you work so hard, and I know you love your job and you're paid very well, but sweetheart, don't you think you should perhaps be thinking about something just a little lower in the stress department? You've got so many marketable skills, sweetheart, you're such a good organizer. You know, Ann can't organize her way out of a paper bag, but you've always been so good at it, dear. It's such a good thing she married that Severin, he's such an organized soul. You know how much I hate chaos. Drives me nuts. Now, it's not that I don't appreciate it, sweetheart, but why on earth are you calling? You only call on Sundays unless something very, very bad has happened."

"How about very good, Mom?"

"I usually have to hear about that from your sister. Now what's going on, Ginny, dear?"

Now that Pepper could actually get a word in edgewise, the words were lodged in her throat. It took her a moment, but eventually she was able to say – with a relatively normal voice, "I'm engaged."

"You're engaged?" She heard her mother screech over the phone with the earpiece some distance from her ear. "I hadn't even heard of a boyfriend! You mean you've been seeing someone all along, and I haven't heard anything, nothing, not even from your sister?"

Time for damage control. "Well, we've worked very closely for almost ten years, and we've both been feeling this way for several months now. We only got engaged today, and I wanted to let you know. Also, you know, I didn't wait until tomorrow because, well, he's sort of… well, he's a well known person, and you know how photographers are, Mom."

"Well, alright. You do live in L.A., land of the Hollywood yahoos. So who is this well known person to whom my eldest daughter has seen fit to finally ally herself?"

Pepper straightened her spine and took a deep breath. "Mom, I'm getting married to Tony Stark."

There was a silence and a clatter, and Pepper realized that her mother had dropped the phone. She could hear her mother saying the Hail Mary, even before she picked up the phone again.

"Virginia. Please tell me this is some kind of very strange joke. Please, just tell me now before I say something I'll regret later when I realize you and Ann are just pulling one over on your old mom. Did Severin put you up to this? That man has got a twisted sense of humor."

Pepper winced and took another deep breath. "Mom, I am getting married to Tony Stark. I'm serious."

"Virginia, you know that I support you completely whatever you choose to do, and if you choose to do this, I will support this as well. But I need to say something, because what do I know? Maybe this hasn't occurred to you already. Virginia, that man is the whore of Babylon. Your father and I never said anything when you went to work for him, we just wanted to be supportive, but I will say, we were completely dumbfounded. We raised you to be a peacenic, darling. We raised you to be non-violent, then you take up a job with an arms dealer. He proudly stands for an entire way of life that we'd always hoped you'd disagree with. But we were supportive. We loved you. We might not love the action, but we always love the child.

"And then it comes out that he's the biggest man-whore alive. But we knew you'd be safe, we knew we'd raised you better than to just fall into bed with a pretty face who's probably got every sexually transmitted disease known to human kind, plus all the varieties that affect mutants as well. We knew you'd be alright. You always had a good head on your shoulders, Ginny, dear.

"And then he goes and gets himself captured in Afghanistan. We thought perhaps this would be the end of it. God knows we don't wish anyone dead, but we thought perhaps that this was the end of the story, and you could finally move on to the bigger and better things on your horizon. But then he comes back! And of course, we're happy he's still alive, but God only knows what they did to him, what kind of inhumane tortures he faced, what kind of PTSD he's going to have to deal with from now on. Insomnia, flashbacks, violent outbursts, self-medication – you know what the human body suffers with insomnia, dear. It's dreadful.

"And now, now! Now he's parading around like God's specially engraved red and gold gift to earth in that ridiculous getup of his. This is the man you want to marry?"

"Yes."

"You're not living with him, are you?"

"No, Mom. I haven't moved in with him."

"Well, that's a small mercy. When are you getting married?"

"We haven't set a date yet. But a photographer did catch us kissing today, so it'll probably be in the tabloids in the check-out aisles before the end of the week. I didn't want you to be surprised, is all."

"Well, thank you dear, that was very considerate of you. Where are you getting married? Out there?"

"We haven't really discussed any of this yet. He only asked me today. In front of Ann, actually, so you can get all the details from her. Where ever we decide, we'll fly you out, Mom."

"Good. If my daughter is marrying a billionaire, I'd expect nothing less. Is he making you sign one of those prenuptual things, as if you were some common golddigger?"

"Mom, we haven't discussed anything like that. But if he wanted me to, I would, Mom. I'm not in this for the money. I've got plenty of my own squirreled away, and a lovely package at work."

"Oh, God, for a moment I forgot he was your boss. Oh, Ginny what were you thinking? Office romances never work out. And your boss? Oh, Ginny! _Virginia Elizabeth Potts!_"

Pepper took another deep breath, held it in, and then let it out very, very slowly. "Mom, I understand that you have concerns, but you and Dad raised me very well. You are going to just have to trust me that I am doing what is best for me. If it makes you feel any better to know, I've always known him to have a good heart, and as for the rest of it, he came back from Afghanistan a different man – a better man. Time will show this to be true, Mom. Time will show the rest of the world what I can already see now."

"Do you love him?"

"Yea, Mom, I do."

"Are you gonna stick with him through thick and thin, none of this Hollywood romance, and then get it annulled two weeks or seven years later?"

"That's my plan."

"When are you coming to Worcester to visit me, and introduce me to this new love of your life?"

"How about sometime before my birthday? I'll check some dates and then call you back."

"Alright. Tony Stark, huh? You gonna take his name?"

"We haven't discussed it, Mom."

"I think you should take his name. It's a nice name. You could do worse. If your father was alive, he'd flip his lid, but you could do worse. It's alright. This is going to be okay."

Pepper smiled despite herself.

--

to be continued.


	3. Rogue's Gallery

**Author's Note:** Behold, chapter three. I hope you enjoy it, and if you enjoy it, I hope you'll let me know. I love the knowing. ...it's strange, but I feel like the line 'Virginia, that man is the whore of Babylon.' was really the high point, and now we're on a crescendo down. Could just be my perspective. Anyway, here 'tis.

--

Tony knocked on her door ten minutes early, entirely on purpose. She'd never let him in if he arrived on time, and she wouldn't make him stand in the hall if she weren't ready. It was his great hope that ten minutes would be a slim enough margin to believe that maybe it wasn't contrived, but neither was it rude.

It was funny – Tony had never before spent time considering the rudeness of being early or late, it wasn't really on his radar screen with anyone else, but he knew it mattered to her, and so with her it was suddenly so important. He'd have to start looking at his watch more often. In addition to this, he really wanted to go inside the inner sanctum of Pepper Potts. Her spaces at work had always been immaculate. A few family photos and a coffee mug from home were the only indications of personality in her work space. Her dress was always business formal, with the only possible peek into her character the fact that she had always – for the nine years he'd known her – worn four inch heels. Occasionally she attended parties with him, but with the exception of the one party she hadn't expected him to attend, she always dressed elegantly, but conservatively.

And yet, there was the blue dress with no back. Tony smiled at the memory. And there was the energy and enthusiasm she'd brought to his bed the night before. Tony smiled wider. And all of the teasing, lingering, searing kisses from the moment outside the R&D3 building yesterday afternoon, right up until he dropped her off at the door he stood before even now, this afternoon. She knew everything about him that there was to know, and there were moments when he felt like he knew nothing of her.

It was time to change that.

He heard her light step behind the door, finally, and heard too, the latch being released before she opened the door for him.

"You're early."

"Am I?" he quickly quipped. "No happy greeting for your long lost love?"

He watched her roll her eyes and back up out of the entranceway. "Come in. Make yourself comfortable. I'll just be another minute."

Tony walked in and the first thing he noticed was the bank of books on the far side of the living room. There were well-used and comfortable looking antiques, and Tony wondered if those had been handed down to her. From what he could see of it, her home was well laid out, modestly furnished, cared for and comfortable. He didn't see a TV, but imagined that there was one somewhere around here. All this he took in, but Tony was drawn to a bank of framed pictures hung in a kaleidoscope pattern on one wall in between two windows. He wandered over and smiled at what he saw: Pepper, and the people who loved her.

Pepper, holding a newborn, and looking for all the world like a redheaded Madonna.

Pepper, being hugged between two women of roughly the same age and same features, one of which he could now identify as Ann, the youngest. The youngest of how many, he had no idea.

Pepper, in a kitchen with an apron on, laying out cookies on a baking sheet with a little boy who looked to be no more than three or four.

And there were more, some of which featured her, some of which didn't. His attention was drawn back to the first he'd laid eyes on, with the infant, and for the first time in his life, Tony wanted to be a father. It wasn't a rational thought; it was more of an impulsive urge. She would look just as beautiful, just as perfect and pure holding his child – their child.

He was never one to be overwhelmed by sentiment, nonetheless, Tony found himself feeling something a little like loss. These were the people in Pepper's life, the people who loved Pepper and whom she loved in return. It was a rogue's gallery, a random gathering of affection, and he wasn't in it.

And now, he had a new goal.

A hand lay on his shoulder and snapped him out of his musings. He turned around and was able to appreciate the fully ready version of his Pepper. She was lovely. It was a little black dress he'd seen before, but she'd always worn some sort of jacket or wrap over it – but not tonight. Her hair was down and full of bouncy ringlets, and he took the opportunity to reach out and curl one around his finger.

"Do I pass inspection?" she asked with a wry look on her face.

"No," he replied with a practiced nonchalance.

"No?" The surprise was evident in her tone.

"You seem to be missing something."

"Oh. And I suppose you'll tell me—"

He interrupted with a little smile and a murmured, "yes."

"—Exactly what I'm missing?"

"As a matter of fact," he continued on, murmuring softly, reaching into his pocket for the surprisingly heavy bijou ring. He took up her left hand in the cramped space between their two bodies, and slipped the ring onto her finger. Not even giving her ample time to recover or look properly at the ring, he narrowed the distance between them. Holding only her hands, he leaned in. The moment before his lips pressed against hers, he murmured, "Now you pass." Long moments later they headed for the door.

There was a small duffel bag near the door that she picked up on her way out. As she locked the door behind her, and he gently removed the bag from her hand so he could carry it for her, he commented, "So are you moving in, after all?"

"No," she said, finished with the door. He put his free hand on the small of her back as they walked to the elevator. "But I had a sneaking suspicion that I might not make it home tonight."

She punched the button for the elevator and it opened almost immediately.

"Oh, you'll make it home, Miss Potts. Maybe not your home. Maybe my home. But you'll make it there."

She smiled at him, a small, sharp, knowing smile and the only thing that kept him from kissing her again was the opening door of the elevator. He waited until they were inside and then blessed the slowness of the elevator as it began its gradual descent.

"Tony, we're in public," she said admonishingly.

"No," he remarked between nibbles on her neck, "we are in… an empty elevator." He licked her neck and his free hand started roving up her side.

When they finally made it outside, she saw that Tony had illegally parked directly in front of her building. It was his little silver Audi, not the Bentley.

"Gave Hogan the night off, then?" she asked as he opened car door for her and handed her into the seat.

"I thought we'd fly solo tonight." He popped the trunk and placed the bag in before moving around to the driver's side. Once he got in and started the engine, he heard her reply.

"There will be no flying tonight, Mr. Stark."

"Miss Potts, are you saying that I don't make your heart soar?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Not always, no."

Tony maneuvered the car into traffic and set off for the restaurant with which Jarvis had made reservations.

"So then I do. On a regular basis. Just not always."

Tony was surprised, but somewhat gratified to suddenly feel her hand on his upper thigh, squeezing and rubbing.

"And do I make your heart soar, Tony Stark?" Her voice was deliciously low and succulent and the sound of it went straight to his groin.

"Oh, God, _yes_." Oh, and he meant it. His heart, along with other bits of his anatomy were beginning to soar even now.

"Good to know," she said, her voice back to normal. She gave his leg one last friendly pat then took her hands back.

He might have whined at that moment, but he wasn't sure, because the next moment she was laughing. He didn't often hear her laugh, but it was beautiful. It was the happiest sound he could imagine.

He shifted gear and then reached over to hold her hand.

"Thank you for the ring, Tony. It's beautiful."

He pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

"And thank you for the clothes today. And the shoes."

"But not for the lingerie?"

"I thought we decided last time that it wasn't really a present for me, but for you."

He grinned. "Hm. I seem to recall something… Wait, it's coming back to me. You swore never to wear the garter belt for me or anyone else. And yet I seem to recall—"

"Yes, I know," she said harshly, but he continued to speak over her.

"—a certain discovery yesterday—"

"Okay, Tony," she said, but he continued talking.

"—that led to really the most amazing evening of my life—"

"I lied, okay? …It was the most amazing evening of your life? But, but… There were no handcuffs, or dress up, I mean, I didn't tie you down even once, and we were only in your bed. It wasn't kinky at all."

"It was _you_, Pepper." He let go of her to downshift, then picked up her hand again. "It doesn't have to be kinky to be amazing. Not that I want to rule out kinky," he said, glancing over at her to check her assent. "It was you, in my bed and in my arms for the first time of many, many times. It was you, who know me and still want to be around me. It was you, beautiful, sexy, entrancing _you_ in a _garter belt_. What's not to love?"

"Well, you're no slouch yourself."

"Thank you. I've had practice."

Tony was relieved to see Pepper dissolve into laughter at that. The moment it came out of his mouth he wondered if he shouldn't have even referenced his somewhat jaded history. But it wasn't like she didn't know about it, intimately.

"I mean," she said, her voice still heavy with laughter, "that I find you entrancing as well. You have a good heart, a brilliant mind, and quite a striking physique. And you can double as a nightlight."

It was Tony's turn to laugh. "And you find this sexy?"

"Incredibly. I know; I'm strange." She shifted and reached over with her free hand and slipped it underneath his tie, to lie right over the arc reactor. While of course, he couldn't feel if she touched it softly, the surrounding tissue could feel the slight pressure of her hand. "Proof you have a heart," she whispered.

They stopped at a light and he looked over at her. "You're proof I have a heart," he whispered back. They kissed lightly, before he was reminded of his duties as a motorist by the honking of horns.

--

to be continued


	4. Breakfast

**Author's Note:** All is not as it seems. This seems like chapter four, but it's not. Chapter four is missing, and can be found in the fic "Missing Chapters: So Far, So Good" in the M Rated section. This is really chapter five. And it seems like chapter five is a rather short update, but that too is misleading - in fact, when considered together, chapters four and five average each other out. Regardless of these illusions, if you like it, that's not an illusion, and I'd love to know about it. But the only way I will is if you tell me, so feel free to do so. xxoo

--

She put the beans through the grinder and fetched the half and half from the refrigerator as he warmed up the pan and started the bread to toast. They danced around each other without incident on that early Monday morning.

"My question still stands, Tony. Where do you think the line should be for us, when we're not in the office, or when it's not specifically nine-to-five, or a work related function? I mean, do you want me to start briefing you at 5 A.M.? Talk about contract negotiations over breakfast?"

"And my question to you still stands, Pepper," he pointed out, though as he thought about it, she'd probably missed his question the first time around. The look on her face confirmed his guess. It stroked his pride to realize that parading around half-naked in front of her could in fact elicit a response out of the reasonably stoic and seemingly jaded Miss Potts. "You get a vote," he clarified. "What's your opinion?"

He watched her pause in getting out two mugs and wondered why the answer wasn't forthcoming.

"I guess… I would prefer if we could have some space for just the two of us, and whatever we want to do or talk about. I mean, there's so much for both of us to do, and we work long hours, and you could work 24 hours and not get it all done, there's so much on your plate. I guess I think if we don't carve out some boundaries, we could conceivably always be working."

Tony looked at her, remembering their weekend together in which absolutely no work had gotten done (except for a few hours here and there on the suit, which didn't count at all in his eyes). "I don't think there's any danger in that," he remarked, remembering the delicious manner in which he'd woken up.

She looked up at him and smiled shyly. "I'd just as soon be intentional about it, though. Humor me?"

"Okay," he shrugged, and flipped the eggs in the pan before plating the toast and putting some butter on the table. "I agree. Except in case of emergency, we keep work at work, or work functions. Since I'm no longer keeping any kind of low profile, I don't see that we'd spend much time here working, but if that's the case, we'll keep it as best we can within normal working hours."

Breakfast was finally served, and they both sat down.

"Does that include car time?" she asked.

"Do you want it to?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Sometimes. But not always."

"Oo, Miss Potts," he half-exclaimed in a low voice as he buttered his bread. "Are you planning some heretofore unexplored bout of debauchery in the car? Because if you are, you should know that I approve. Completely. Go for it."

"I might be," she replied, loftily.

"Excellent. It's nice to know that I've been a positive influence on you."

She snorted as she cut her eggs and toast, one on top of the other. "Not according to my mother."

She never did mention how that particular conversation went, and he hadn't found a particularly apt moment to bring it up before now.

"What did your mother have to say?"

He watched Pepper grin as she ate and he patiently waited until she was able to speak. He sipped some of his morning coffee, perfectly made.

"Well, she came around in the end. Wants us to visit her in Massachusetts. I said I'd talk it over with you."

"She came around in the end? What did she say in the beginning, or is it not fit for print?"

He watched as Pepper giggled and looked as if she wasn't going to say anything at all. At his rather significant look, she relented.

"She might have called you… um," she said, interrupting herself with laughter, "…the whore of Babylon."

Well, that was a new one.

"The whore of Babylon?" he deadpanned.

Composure completely lost, she just nodded.

"Well, okay. That fits. I mean, not anymore, but I can see her point. You mentioned she came around in the end? She's okay with you dating the whore of Babylon, then?"

This seemed to set her off again into another gale of laughter. He just smiled at watched her. She was beautiful.

"Well, that settles it then. When we get into the office take a look at my schedule and see if you can't wrangle a few days in Boston. She's in Boston, right?"

She shook her head. "Western Mass."

"Close enough. Small state. Is that where you're from?"

She nodded.

"When did you come out here?"

"For school."

"And then you worked for a governor, right?"

She nodded again. "Of Washington State."

"Our green-loving neighbors to the north. And did you enjoy that position?"

She shrugged in a fashion that told him she didn't, particularly. "I learned a lot," she replied. After a moment or two she added, "My boss hit on me. I didn't stick around long after that."

"Well, that's ironic, isn't it? I hope that somewhere in the back of your mind you're not job hunting, just because we've had some amazing sex in the last 48 hours."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said with a small smile. "I'm looking forward to seeing how well we handle all the different aspects of our relationship."

--

...to be continued...


	5. A Slight Freakout

**Author's Note:** Hello! It's been a while since the last update. Y'all know how life can get. Still, thank you to all who have read the story thus far and left a review - it's been lovely talking with you. And thank you to all who read and simply send good vibes of appreciation. Good vibes of appreciation are always welcome. And now I give you chapter six (see the M rated section if you're of age and are confused about the missing chapter). I hope you enjoy it, and yes, I anticipate another update tomorrow, if not sooner. (This is what vacations are for, right? Visiting friends, petting cats, contemplating doing the gardening, and writing fic - right?)

--

In the heavy morning traffic, it would take Happy 75 minutes to drive them from The House to the office, and that was if Tony's driver/bodyguard was having a good day and there were no traffic delays. This day, Pepper noted, seemed to be a good day.

The first half hour of the ride was in preview of the day. Tony had a budget meeting with the CFO that promised to be nightmarish for him, and there were several proposals on his desk that he needed to put the finishing touches on, and then send to her to polish. He had a lunch meeting with the engineers in the new experimental division, which would undoubtedly run late, as he was apt to roll up his sleeves and start tinkering with them. He had six conference calls with a senator, three congressmen, a general, and a group of smaller subcontractors.

Baring major incident or sudden bout of irresponsibility, he would be finished by six. It was likely she might also be done then, and the plan was a quiet evening 'at home'.

Pepper wondered if this would tend toward the shape of their days together.

Pepper wondered how often she'd get back to her own apartment.

Pepper thought about her own day, her own schedule, always revolving around his, her own work life: to help him do his job. She had previewed the budget, which is why she knew it would be a nightmare. Division six was over budget and the new developments had not yet begun to take up the slack for the Weapons Division, nor would they any time soon. Achieving Millennium Development Goals was great, but it didn't pay like guns and missiles did.

Pepper had sorted the proposals according to priority. She had arranged for the conference calls in the afternoon – many of them having already been rescheduled once. She had arranged for the lunch with the engineers on _this_ day, full of paperwork and tedious meetings because she knew Tony, and knew he'd need a break. She could either schedule one in, or he'd take one anyway and blow his schedule to hell.

It took two people to do his job. One person to do it, and one person to make sure everything was in place so no time was wasted. But somewhere along the line – rather soon, if Pepper remembered correctly – being Mr. Stark's PA turned into being Tony's assistant in nearly every circumstance of life. He had Hogan to help vet the women he used to sleep with, but that was the only part of his life Pepper was barred, and would have refused to go in any instance. But she was the one to usher said ladies out the door the next morning, should he bring them home. And it happened like clockwork. Tony knew she woke up every morning at five, and promptly at 5:15 on such mornings she would receive a text message from him that simply said 'Dry cleaning'. Which meant that the latest sex-interest was blissfully asleep in his bed while Tony, having collected whatever clothes of hers he could find, had dumped them with Happy to drop off at the drycleaners while he tinkered in his shop. It was her job to pick up the dry cleaning and direct said interest out of the house. On such days as these, Pepper rode to the office with him, leaving her own car at The House, and then had to drive back home afterwards. In L.A. traffic, such days as these usually added an extra three hours onto her workday.

Not that such days would be part of her work life anymore. But there were few parts of his practical, day-to-day life that Pepper didn't have a hand in. She knew him, as much as one can know anyone. And yet, did he know _her_?

Tony had a tendency to slip in and out of professionalism whenever he felt like it, but she had always tried to maintain her distance. She wasn't sure why, but she even hid the one picture of the two of them that she kept in her apartment. A smallish picture taken by Jarvis a few years ago, it captured them perfectly. Tony was looking mischievous and she was just about to roll her eyes. It ended up as quite a good picture, and when she'd found it months after while looking for something else, she saved it and had it printed out. It stood in a delicate silver frame on her desk, in her living room, but she'd put the picture away when he'd come to pick her up at her apartment, and she wasn't sure why. Perhaps she just didn't want him to think that she'd cared for him when he'd clearly not given a damn about her.

Or was that fair?

No, it probably wasn't fair. For years they had been something like friends, but it had certainly been an unequal friendship based more on proximity than mutuality, and clouded somewhat by the fact that he paid her salary (but mitigated by the fact that he didn't give a shit about money).

And now it would be different. But how different? There would be no 5:15 A.M. dry cleaning messages from Jarvis. She would still be his assistant in life and work. And she would also be his partner in life, if not in work.

Work. A pit of despair opened up in her stomach when Pepper thought of her colleagues. Dancing with him at the benefit in the ridiculous blue dress had nothing on waltzing into the office with a giant diamond on her left ring finger. Pepper tried to remind herself that this was the better alternative – merely dating him would open up a giant can of worms that would include her own character ripped to shreds. Still, she was having a hard time remembering how being engaged to him would be better, might shield her from such character attacks. And there would be nine full hours of it.

Pepper wondered about her state of mind come six o'clock. If it was anything like her current state of mind, she wasn't likely to be very good company at all. And it seemed that Tony had noticed – a small miracle in and of itself.

"Hey. What's going on?" His voice was gentle, but lost on her.

Pepper's eyes darted toward him but then focused once more out of the window on the traffic passing by. She shook her head. She didn't know what was wrong, or at least, she hadn't really had a moment to consider the issue yet. It was more just a vague but surprisingly strong feeling of unease.

"What are we doing?" she whispered, and she didn't even hear the note of horror in her voice.

"Riding in a car that's driving down the freeway."

She slowly turned toward him again. The sudden intense emotion seemed to fill up her entire body, like a shower going cold all of a sudden. "Tony, this is never going to work," she said, her voice still a whisper.

There was an image in her head of any number of her coworkers noticing the large diamond engagement ring and asking her who the lucky man was. And in each imaginary scenario, she choked on his name. She imagined herself smiling and saying nothing, but that never worked for long. Then she would say his name, and the vitriol would begin to fly. Vile and dirty accusations and innuendo would assault her. Her reputation in the company, her ability to get anything done would be shot. They would think she'd been sleeping with him all along. They would think she was loose, unprincipled, a fortune hunter, a brainless bimbo who managed to land her billionaire boss.

"Hey," he said, capturing her hand in his, opening her palm and placing kiss in the center. "It is going to work, because we're going to make it work. We've got a plan, and if we need to change it mid stream, we will."

She shut her eyes against his optimism. "I don't know if I can do this." She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't, wasn't, wasn't going to cry. It was completely ridiculous that she wanted to cry. An hour ago she was blissful in this man's company, and now she wanted to cry?

"You are strong, and you are brave, Pepper. You can do it. And you won't be alone. In fact, let's make a preemptive strike. Come on. Whip out the Blackberry, and send this email to all Stark employees and the board, from my address." She sniffed back the tears and fumbled with the device, but he waited until she was ready. "'To all at Stark Industries: It is my great pleasure to announce my pending marriage to Miss Virginia Potts of Massachusetts.'"

She looked up at him askance and he nodded. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Positive," he said, and she could feel that he meant it. It was in his eyes and his tone and the way his hand rested heavily on her thigh. "And continuing on," he added softly, "'Further details are not available at this time. Please join us in our celebration by considering the rest of the week as an optional and additional paid vacation time. As per company policy, should you be approached by the media on this topic, there should be no comment.' Sign it 'Have a great week, Tony Stark'. Send it. Are you sending it? Pepper?"

She leaned over and kissed him full on the lips.

"Hm, yes, I agree," he murmured, when they finally parted. He brushed his lips over her forehead and massaged his strong fingers into the base of her skull, which brought a little moan from her, unbidden.

"I didn't say anything, Tony," she responded softly.

"No. But still. That should put you in a positive light. Us. You, us, we. We'll be viewed in a positive light. I'm thinking a good Christmas bonus this year, too." He leaned in and spoke directly into her ear, ever so softly, "Send the message, Pep."

As it was, there was only oohing and aahing over her ring and looks of mild envy. Tony was at lunch which some of his engineers, undoubtedly having a blast, tinkering with a sandwich in one hand, even while Pepper ate with the usual ladies, an eclectic group including two accountants, a lawyer, two engineers and the CFO's PA. She could tell they were all busting at the seams to ask questions they all deemed highly inappropriate. Finally, one of them addressed the matter circuitously.

"So, what's it like, being engaged to the infamous Tony Stark?"

Pepper kept her countenance, only raising a single eyebrow the tiniest bit. "He's infamous for so many things. Genius. Billionaire. POW. Industrialist. Philanthropist. Weapons Manufacturer. Superhero. Playboy."

"It's that last one we're fascinated with," her lawyer friend muttered into her Diet Coke.

There was a moment of utter quiet at their outside picnic table before all seven of them cracked up laughing, Pepper included. When she could catch her breath, she responded.

"Well, just as he is no longer a manufacturer of weapons, neither is he a playboy."

"Well, yes, but…" someone muttered, and everyone started laughing again.

Still giggling, Pepper responded again. "He keeps me on my toes, alright? And that's all I'm saying."

"I hope you keep him on _his,_ girlfriend," one of the engineers responded.

Pepper just laughed in the affirmative.

--

To be continued.


	6. The Yacht

**Author's Note:** This is chapter 8. If the numbering confuses you, and you are thinking to yourself, "what happened to the missing chapter 7?" I say to you, check the M Rated section, and you shall find it. If you don't feel like doing that, know that your life will be complete without it. And if you enjoy this chapter, I'd love to hear about it!

--

Pepper was a woman who enjoyed the rhythms of her day. What might feel like a rut to one person, was to Pepper a day well organized and well executed. Life working so closely with a hyper-active billionaire jet-setting genius, however, did not always pan out to any discernable rhythm. It had required incredibly flexibility and was the source of new few migraines for her in the first year, but Pepper had adjusted quite well. Few were the times that her boss ended up surprising her, though perhaps more often lately than before his time away.

Still, there was a frision of satisfaction to be had when everything on the task list was finished, when every meeting managed to be attended by whomever needed to attend it, and when the day, finally over, seemed complete. For one thing, work actually got done, but a subtle, though no less satisfying meaning could also be found in such days: it meant that she'd been able to look ahead, see what could be reasonably done, what was not inhuman or inhumane to be expected for either herself, or her boss.

With this in mind it was perhaps understandable that Pepper got just a shade cranky when her days completely lost their rhythm.

"We're not working right now, Pepper. Remember? We had this conversation. You cleared our schedules, I gave SI the rest of the week off, and now we're very busy baking ourselves in the California sun in preparation for jumping off the back of the yacht, taking a swim, and then having sex until we both pass out in the cabin. It's a plan. It's a good plan. You've added reading a novel to the plan, and I admit that I might have started snoozing, but I think the plan is still valid."

Pepper watched as his covered gaze wandered around, then back to her. Normally she found him charming, but it wasn't working just now. She put her novel down and propped herself up on her elbows, looking over to the man in the cushioned chaise lounge next to her. She ignored the short, tight swim trunks, the wild and disheveled black hair, and she most certainly ignored the great expanse of exposed skin pulled tight over his muscled physique. The gently glowing arc reactor did not sway her.

"Tony, this isn't work, and you can't avoid it forever. Agent Coulsen was very nice. Nick Fury broke in and disabled Jarvis. Do you really want to witness who they might send the third time, or are you going to decide what you're going to do about S.H.I.E.L.D. and just get it over with? Or are you really waiting until they send that giant green guy, or maybe a mutant?"

"I don't know what I want to do," he said quietly, and a little bit of Pepper relented.

"Have you even thought about it?" she asked in a tone that implied she had strong doubts that he had.

"Aside from the annoyance, no, not really."

"Which annoyance?"

"I don't like my privacy invaded like that. I don't like the thought that someone can disable Jarvis so easily. And I don't like the idea of being at someone's beck and call. I can barely stick to my own schedule. I can't imagine having someone else dictate where I need to be and when. You know, someone other than you."

He grinned at her briefly, but she just rolled her eyes.

"And I'm not sure how far I want this Ironman thing to go. I mean, really, the only thing I know I want to do is take my weapons off the market. Maybe they're going to ask me to do things that I don't want to do. Put me in situations where my choices will be limited."

He paused, but it was clear to Pepper that he had more to say.

"I know that they call – they called me – the Merchant of Death. One of the… someone… well, he's probably dead now, but one of them called me the most famous mass murderer in all America." As he paused, Pepper felt her own annoyance drain away.

"And, they were right, of course. Political situations, they're never black and white, but killing someone, that's pretty black and white. You're alive, or you're dead, and if you're dead, someone helped you along to that state, or they didn't. But even so, that's pretty far removed. But Pepper… when I broke out… when I escaped, I killed people. I just killed them. Personally. In a suit of armor of my own making, I killed people. Yes, they had kidnapped me, tortured me… Yes. I killed them, and I would do it again. But that knowledge doesn't make me feel any better after the adrenaline drains away.

"And later on, in Gulmira, and afterwards… I didn't just blow up a cashe of weapons. Soldiers that protected them died, because I killed them.

"And Obi… He tried to kill me, several times. He was going to kill you. He had clearly gone insane, and maybe much earlier than I'd realized. But he was also like a father to me – sometimes more so than Dad ever was. And I killed him, Pepper. I killed him. But you know, he couldn't have built that suit without my prototype, and he couldn't have powered it without my arc reactor. I didn't make him build it, or steal my heart, or climb in it and try to kill you, I didn't force that on him, but it wouldn't have been possible without me. Without Ironman. Without the suit, and the arc reactor. I'm the reason behind you nearly dying. The Merchant of Death strikes again."

"Tony, no."

"Yes, Pepper. It is true. It's absolutely true, don't you understand? Every time, or nearly every time I put that suit on, people die, because I kill them. And maybe it's a clear-cut case, and maybe it's a little bit closer to a shade of grey, but I can tell you right now, that I'm not sure I want someone else telling me who to aim a missile at. It's bad enough I've got to do it on my own in order to get my weapons off the market."

"Tony, if you never put that suit on again, that would be fine by me. Seeing you struggle out of it because the bullet holes have warped the outer hull to the point of it being painted on, Tony this is not something that fills my heart with joy. In fact, I think I hate it. But avoiding the question won't make it go away, and it may end up being a good thing. I'm not advocating that you join S.H.I.E.L.D., I'm really not. I'm advocating that you sit down to meet with Mr. Fury, and honestly, I'd like to be in the room. I realize that I'm not the superhero, and I don't mean to be Yoko, but if we're really in this together, I like to think that my opinion counts."

"You're opinion does count to me."

She smiled at him.

"Schedule the meeting. And definitely make sure you can be there, too." He sighed.

"And Tony?"

He looked over, and she took her sunglasses off so he could see her eyes. "I don't care what you've done, or what you have to do. I love you. Nothing you can do as Ironman will change that, and everything you do as Tony Stark just confirms it."

"You're quite a catch, Pepper Potts," he replied, reaching over and taking her hand in his.

"Finally, you and my mother agree on something."

He smirked at her, and it was clear that the mood for both of them had lifted. "You ready for that swim, now?" he asked, beckoning the steward over. She nodded, and already she could feel the engines cut out and hear the anchor drop.

Pepper supposed one of the stewards would also be looking out for sharks. At least, that is what Pepper hoped as they moved to the aft deck. Swimming pools suddenly seemed like such good ideas…

--

...to be continued...


End file.
